Beatles Challenge Trilogy
by wren-kt7oz
Summary: Written in response to a challenge to write a fic based on a Beatles song from the Hard Day's Night album. I couldn't decide, so I wrote three short ones which form a story.
1. Any Time At All

'Shit! Shit! Shit!' I think.

"Please, Gus," I croon, "It's okay. I'm here. Jus'in is here. It's alright."

But clearly it isn't alright and the poor little tyke keeps right on screaming. I bounce him n my arms and hope I've done the right thing. I could have called the Marriott Convention Center and tried to contact Lindz or Mel, but I hated to do that. Courtesy of Lindsay's work, the couple are at a big charity fundraiser attended by just about all the leading lights of the Pittsburgh arts community and Lindz has been looking forward to it for weeks. I'm sure there is nothing actually wrong with Gus; he doesn't have a temperature and he isn't sick. He just had a bad dream. He woke up crying and has gradually worked himself up into this almost hysterical state, with me apparently powerless to do anything to calm or console him.

Although I felt weird about doing it, especially considering what I've been up to since my conversation with Daphne, there really was only one other option aside from contacting the girls. Ever since Gus woke up his screams and cries have been punctuated over and over by a heart-rending plea for "Daddy". So, with my heart bouncing uncomfortably between my throat and my knees, I had called Brian. Fortunately, since my tongue somehow got tangled around my tonsils as soon as I heard his voice, I hadn't really had to explain, because Gus's cries had been all too audible even over the phone. Typically terse, Brian's only comment had been, "I'm on my way."

Thankfully, I hear the door bell ring. Gus in my arms, I almost run to open it. Brian barely looks at me, just holds out his arms for his son.

"Hey, Sonnyboy!"

The sound of his voice seems to cut Gus off mid scream. He gives a hiccup and subsides into soft sobs. His little arms wind round his father's neck and he buries his face in Brian's shoulder. I have to turn away to hide the fact that my allergies have suddenly made my eyes all watery. I'm not sure what has set them off – whether it's the sheer beauty of the man and child together, the tenderness in Brian's face, or my almost overwhelming desire to be held as Gus is being held, cradled firmly in Brian's arms.

Brian walks past me into the living room, talking quietly to his son. Gus, now that his Daddy is there to chase away the bad things from the dream, is calming quickly. Brian keeps walking to and fro, his voice a continuing low rumble of consolation. I feel awkward and fairly useless.

"Um … would you like a coffee?" I venture.

Brian glances at me and nods, continuing to murmur to Gus. It's so soft, I'm not completely sure, but it almost sounds like Brian is singing.

Grateful for something that I can do, I go into the kitchen and put on the coffee, waiting until it's ready before taking it into the living room I don't quite know what else to do with myself, and I want to give Brian and Gus some privacy. I love watching them together, I always have, and I don't get much chance these days. But I sense how potentially intrusive my observation might seem. Brian is at his most vulnerable when he's with Gus, his defenses at their weakest, and I know that he hates anyone seeing that side of him.

'Especially me,' I sigh miserably to myself. 'Now, anyway. It used to be different, he never used to mind me seeing him that way, but that's all changed now. I don't have the right anymore.'

When I walk back into the living room, I find Brian sitting now on the couch, Gus half lying on his knee, relaxed against his father's chest.

_"If you're feeling sorry and sad, _  
><em>I'd really sympathise, don't you be sad, <em>  
><em>just call me tonight."<em>

There is no doubt now that Brian is singing, and as he starts the next line, I hear a tiny voice stumbling along with the lyrics:

_"Any time at all, any time at all, _  
><em>any time at all, all you've gotta do is call, <em>  
><em>and I'll be there."<em>

Mesmerized, I sink silently into the nearest chair, still holding the two cups of coffee.

_"If the sun has faded away, _  
><em>I'll try to make it shine. <em>  
><em>There is nothing I won't do. <em>  
><em>When you need a shoulder to cry on, <em>  
><em>I hope it will be mine. <em>  
><em>Call me tonight, and I'll come to you."<em>

As he softly sings the last line, Brian looks up and his eyes meet mine. For one long moment, I feel that Brian is singing it for me. Then Brian's voice trails off. He looks down at his son, and I follow his glance and realise that Gus has fallen asleep.

Fighting back my desire to throw myself onto the couch alongside Brian and claim a share of the tenderness and love that shines so warmly at this moment in those amazing hazel eyes, I carefully put down the coffee cups and stand up.

"Should we put him back to bed?'

Brian nods and manages to stand up without waking the sleeping boy. "I'll take him up. He should be okay now. He has these nightmares sometimes. Once he settles down, he usually sleeps the rest of the night with no trouble."

He comes down a few minutes later.

"All tucked in?" I ask, desperately searching for conversation with my mouth dry and my heart once more behaving like a jumping jack.

Brian nods. "Where are the munchers?" he asks, taking his coffee.

"Um, at that big charity do at the Marriott."

"Oh. Right." Brian, taking a long swig of his cooling coffee, also seems strapped for conversation. Not that that's all that unusual with him. He doesn't really go in for small talk.

"Brian, I'm sorry that I called, I just couldn't …" I sigh, feeling downcast. I want … well, I want a lot of things, but right now I mostly want Brian to see me as a man; as someone confident and competent, someone he can rely on to be strong and independent, and instead I can't even look after a toddler for a few hours without calling for help.

"No. Hey. That's fine. A man knows when to ask for help, remember?"

I look up and our eyes meet and hold for a long moment. We both smile a little as we each feel the bond still there between us. In that moment, I'm sure he feels it too.

As I stand there, not quite knowing what to do or say next, Brian, seems also to be struggling with words. He sucks his lips in, in that way he has when he's considering what to say. "Justin, about Gus … even Lindz calls me sometimes when he gets like that."

My eyes widen in surprise. "Really?"

'I bet Mel loves that!', I can't help but think.

"Like I said, Gus has these nightmares sometimes and for some reason me singing him that song is what gets him to relax and forget about them. I sort of started it, I suppose. He was asking one day why I couldn't stay here with him and the munchers and I told him that if he needed me, all he had to do was call me. We were playing with his toy phone, and I started singing him that song, and it just seems to have stuck in his head. So when the monsters attack, that seems to be what he thinks of. They should have warned you."

I draw in a long breath, trying to take in what it means that Brian has shared that with me. He never just comes out with things like that. Never tells anyone anything personal unless they absolutely need to know. 'And sometimes not even then', I think, a little ruefully.

I need some time to think about this. I don't want him to leave, but I don't want to mess things up either, just when I'm finally starting to believe Daph was right about me going for what I want; fighting for who I want. 'Cause if he really wants it too ... "Well, as long as you don't mind. I hope I didn't interrupt anything important."

Brian grins wryly and walks to the door. "Nothing all that important, no."

I follow him to the door and smile at him weakly, not really wanting to go into the implications of that response.

"Thanks, Brian. Thanks for coming so quickly."

Brian looks straight into my eyes and says softly, "Any time, Sunshine. Any time at all."

And just like that I know I'm right and he does want it, does want me. He wants me back, he really does. He just doesn't know it, or doesn't want to admit it, or maybe he simply doesn't know how to make it happen. Or, I realise, most likely he doesn't know that it's what I want, what I need, and he won't, he would never, try to get what he wants at my expense. So it's up to me to convince him that, no matter what his reservations might be, this is what's right for both of us.

With one last rather sad smile, he turns and goes, leaving me looking after him, quivering with hope, and renewed resolve. Well, alright, basically when he leaves I'm a total quivering mess, just wanting to melt into his arms, but …

The application for an internship at Vanguard is already on its way, and now I'm sure that I am doing the right thing. There might be a battle or two ahead of me, but for both our sakes I have to win. It won't be the first time that I've gone head to head with someone that was standing in the way of Brian being happy; and I'm not about to allow the fact that this time it is Brian himself who is the "enemy" to make any difference. I've taken on Kip Thomas, and my father, and Howard Bellweather, and that brat of a nephew. Hell, I'd take on armies if I had to; but I don't have to. All I have to overcome is a beautiful, proud and damaged man who, unless I am very much mistaken, desperately wants me to win. For his sake, I can do anything, win any battle.

I've got my plan of campaign already mapped out, and now I can't wait to put it into action.

Brian isn't going to stand a chance.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_Lyrics quoted are from "Anytime At All" by Lennon/McCartney_


	2. Tell Me Why

As I drive away from the munchers, I really, really need a drink. I debate going to Woody's and taking up where I'd left off when my cell phone rang, but it's late, and I'm tired, and … The truth is, I know from bitter experience that there's no point in picking up a trick when my mind is focused on Justin, and my ears are filled with the sound of his voice, and my nostrils with his scent and …

Damn! If I pick up a trick now, all that will happen is that my mind will try to make me believe that it's Justin I'm with, and at some point it will lose the ability to do that because my body won't be fooled for a moment that whatever loser I'm with is anywhere near as good a fuck as he is. They won't move like him, they won't smell like him, they won't taste like him, they won't sigh my name the way he does, they won't feel the way he does in my arms. And when that realisation sinks in all that will be left is the devastation of losing him all over again.

I am so fucked.

I don't know whether to be glad he called tonight or to want to curse and scream because he called and I had to go there; had to, because Gus needed me; so I had to see him, and talk with him, and hear his voice, and watch him watch me, and not reach for him and not, not, never break down and fall on my knees and beg him to come home.

Fucked and treble fucked.

That's what happens when you let yourself get involved. If I'd never gotten involved in Gus's life; if I hadn't taught him that stupid song …

It was that damned client's fault. They'd wanted to use a fucking Beatles song for their ad, but "not a clichéd one, Mr. Kinney, something a bit off the beaten track". So I'd been going through all these corny old songs, and some of them had just stuck in my head.

Then I was at the munchers' and Sonnyboy started going on about me staying there with him all the time, and that damned plastic phone was right there, so I picked it up, and the next thing I knew I was telling him that if ever he needed me, all he had to do was call me, and I was singing that fucking song to him. Mind you, it did seem to quiet him down. He loved it. Loves it. He makes me sing it to him every time I go over there. He even tries now to sing along.

And if I'm honest, I'd have to admit that it really gives me a buzz when he starts screaming so loudly for his Dad that even Mel has to call me and get me to sing him the song. Even over the phone, it seems to work okay. But usually, if I can, I go over there right away. I mean, I'd kinda promised the kid that I would, and although sometimes I think it would be better if he learned that he shouldn't rely on me, shouldn't rely on anyone, when it gets right down to it, I hate disappointing him. I don't ever want to do that if I can avoid it. I've disappointed too many of the people that I … love. The people I love. Shit! I'm in my own head, here. I can afford to say it in my own head, anyway.

I've disappointed Justin so many times, and even though I'd told him not to rely on me, told him he was the only one he had, still, I'd also wanted to be there for him, to give him everything I could. And I'd hoped for a while that it would be enough. I'd started to believe that maybe it was going to be enough. But when it came down to it, it turned out that what I could give, and what he needed weren't the same. Hell! They weren't even close. But that doesn't mean that I don't still try to be there if he needs something that I can give him. I need to do that. It's all I have. And I'll always try to give everything I can to Gus. It mightn't be enough, but he'll get the very best I can do.

So when Justin called tonight, needing help, and I heard Gus crying for me in the background, going over there straight away was a no-brainer. Even if it did mean seeing Justin.

Not that I don't like seeing Justin. That's just the fucking problem. I like it way too much. You'd think it would get easier, and for a while there, it sort of did. I mean, I knew he was with the fiddler. And he seemed happy, so I had to be okay with that. We'd gotten to the point where we could at least talk without major weirdness. After the carnival poster and then the thing with that fucking evil little son of a bitch nephew of mine, we'd even sort of become … friends, I guess.

But that was when he was with Ethan. He isn't anymore. So now there's nothing and no one there between us, except that I'm still not what he wants, not what he needs, not what he deserves. And, although I could handle that, just, when he was with someone else, and happy, now he's alone again, and he's not happy, you only have to look into those beautiful blues to know that, and I don't know what to do.

I want to do the right thing, the right thing for Justin. The problem is that torn between wanting him and wanting him to be happy, I just don't have a clue what the right thing is any more.

Except that right at this moment, going home and seeking the company of my old friend Jim seems like a good option.

As I sink down on the couch, that damned song is still going through my head. I get up and rifle through the cds until I find the right one, and put it on. Supposedly to listen to that song. Of course, what I really want to hear is the other one, the other song, the one I had to stop myself singing over and over when I first found it.

It starts and I'm overcome by the memories. What am I doing to myself? Gallons of Jim Beam couldn't drown out this pain.

It was the day after. Not the day after the Rage party. That was just the finale. No, the day after I finally understood that I was really going to lose him. He'd come home stinking of the fiddler, and … well, I don't want to think about that. I'm not particularly proud of how I acted that night.

When we finally lay in our bed … the last time, really, that it was "our" bed, he turned away from me and just lay there in the dark. I think he was crying. I think I was. I wanted to reach out, to touch him, to hold him, to hold onto him. But I didn't. I just lay there looking at him and all through the night I felt him move a little further away from me with each breath so that by the morning he was way beyond my reach.

The next day I was working on the campaign and I came across this fucking song.

_"Tell me why you cried, and why you lied to me."_

The moment I heard that line, I felt something start to squeeze my heart so tightly I could hardly breathe. That wasn't the kicker, though. It was the rest, the verses. Over the next week or so, till he finally left me standing in the middle of Babylon, they kept coming back to haunt me. Now, as I listen to them again, all that pain floods back. No, not back, it never left; it just pours out from somewhere deep inside me.

_"I gave you everything had, _  
><em>but you left me sitting on my own. <em>  
><em>Did you have to treat me oh, so bad. <em>  
><em>All I do is hang my head and moan."<em>

But it wasn't him, he didn't treat me badly. He just did what I'd always told him he should do, he looked out for himself. He was always free to leave, if he didn't want to stay. And I didn't give him a lot of reasons to want to stay. At least, I thought maybe I had, but it was obvious even then that they weren't the right reasons. They weren't the reasons he was looking for.

_"If there's something I have said or done, _  
><em>tell me what and I'll apologise. <em>  
><em>If you don't I really can't go on <em>  
><em>holding back these tears in my eyes."<em>

I didn't cry. Not on the outside at least. I just lived every day in this haze of pain. But hey!, I'm an expert at pain management, right? Except that this time the usual techniques didn't work very well. The tricks, well, we know what went wrong with the tricks. And the drugs and the drink, they just left me feeling too out of control.

_"Well, I beg you on my bended knees, _  
><em>if you'll only listen to my pleas. <em>  
><em>Is there anything I can do?, <em>  
><em>'cause I really can't stand it, <em>  
><em>I'm so in love with you."<em>

See, that was the problem, take in enough pain killers and the control started to slip and all that was left was what I wanted, what I needed, and there were times I was so fucking close to finding myself fucking serenading him under his fucking window… I scared the shit out of myself. So I had to stop going down that path. Even tonight …

I sigh, and screw the top back on the Beam bottle.

Because tonight, he looked at me, and I swear I saw something there. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking. But whichever – wishes or reality - I can't go running to him and begging him to come home. I can't. Because I think he would, I'm afraid he would. And I won't do that to him. It's like I told Lindz, I would never ask him to put my needs above his, or try to be something he's not just to make me happy.

So I just put that fucking song on repeat, and sit here, listening to it over and over and try not to wonder … if I'd done it, if I'd somehow found a way to give these words to him, would he still be here? Even now, would he come back?

_"Cause I really can't stand it I'm so in love with you."_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_Lyrics quoted are from Tell Me Why by Lennon/McCartney_


	3. Just to Dance With You

Justin

In some ways it's like a fantasy, like the dreams I've had over and over in the past weeks. I'm in Babylon, the lights are shining, the music is loud, the beat heavy and insistent, and I'm dancing with Brian. Usually, just as he leans in close, I wake up, alone, and find tears already threading down my face.

But this time when he leans close, I reach up and run my fingers through hair so soft and fine that I would know it anywhere for Brian's. Just as I would know the smell of him and the feel of his skin against mine. I'd know them anywhere. And they're right here. I look up and our eyes meet and it's all I can do not to simply fall into his arms and beg him to take me somewhere and fuck me senseless. But I wait.

Later that will happen.

For now, this is enough.

Lately, since I pushed myself back into his life - well, into his bed, we've never stopped being part of each other's lives - lately, like I said, Brian has been playing these weird old Beatles songs. He seems stuck on them for some reason, which is so not like him. He says that they're considering using some of them in an ad, but I don't know. I guess they're alright. One of them is the song he sang to Gus that night, the night I knew that it was worth trying to get him back.

He told me then that he started singing it to Gus to make sure that his son knew Brian was always there if he wanted him. So now whenever Gus gets upset he wants to hear Brian sing him the song. "Any Time at All" I think it's called.

But there's another song on that cd, one that I really kind of like, because in some ways it makes me think of me and Brian. It's called "I'm Happy Just to Dance With You" and it's kinda corny, and I'd never ever admit to anyone, especially Brian, that I think it's like us, but …

Somehow, there have been really key moments in what I try very hard not to call our relationship that have involved dancing. Times when we've really connected.

I guess the biggest one was the Prom Dance, and it kills me that I can't remember it. I sometimes get sort of flashes, but never the whole thing. Chris Hobbs stole that from me and it's the one thing I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive him for. I remember Brian and Daphne trying to recreate it for me, but that's actually a really painful memory. I was so scared and clumsy. Daphne has described it for me though, the real dance, over and over. She says it's the most beautiful and romantic thing she's ever seen. Maybe that's why I pushed Brian so hard over the romance stuff, because I felt so cheated that he'd given me this wonderful romantic moment and I couldn't even remember it.

I guess the problem was that, for Brian, the outcome of that moment of romance was so horrible it took away any chance there ever was of turning him into a romantic, or even a boyfriend who did romantic things. Chris Hobbs stole that from me too. From Brian. From us And I think that the fact that I couldn't even remember it somehow made it even worse for Brian. It should have been a moment that we'd share forever, but my memory loss left him alone with all the joy as well as the pain, and nothing to do with those feelings except cover them up like he usually does.

But there have been other moments that I remember very clearly. Especially right now, when we're swaying so close together and everything is just right in my world.

There was that first time I came to Babylon. I was so scared I had to bring Daphne with me for moral support – how girly is that? But then I saw Brian with those two guys and something in me just said, "Don't put up with that shit. You're hotter than them. Go for it."

So I did. I didn't even think about it. I hadn't even realised I'd stripped off my shirt on the way until later, when Daph gave it back to me before Brian took me back to the loft.

I was a bit scared when the two guys started moving in so close. If Brian hadn't come to claim me I don't know what I would have done. But he did.

I'll never forget how he looked at me that night. Not just that he wanted me, not just that I was some sort of prize he'd had to claim from those others, but like he was actually pleased with me, proud of me. He lifted me clear up off the ground and held me up in the air like I was a trophy. But all the time he was smiling at me, and I knew that somehow, even if just for that moment, I'd made him really, really happy. After that, I wanted him to always look at me like that.

There were so many other dances. The night I was trying to decide about Dartmouth and Brian told me I could never go back. He talked about our first night together and I couldn't believe how much he remembered. He is such a shit. He really had made me believe that he couldn't remember even my name, and all the time he'd remembered just about every detail. Just like I had. But it wasn't really what he said that night. It was the way he said it; hell! to some extent it was the fact that he said it at all. But the way he said it, the way he looked straight into my eyes while he spoke to me – no bullshit, no walls, no pretences – just Brian being as open and direct as I've ever known him to be. I think that was when I knew for the first time that he cared about me. I might have given him shit when he let slip that he was rattled by the idea of me going out of state to college, but I knew that just could have been that he'd be losing a fuck buddy. This was about me; about Brian caring enough to do his best to make sure I didn't mess things up for myself. We danced to Forever Young, that night, and the lights shone on the glitter as it fell around us and on his beautiful face, and it could hardly have been more appropriate. He always will be young and beautiful to me, because that's how I think of him. How I'll always think of him. How I'll always see him.

Then, after the bashing, when I was trying to get my life back together, and so grateful to Brian for his help, there was Pride. After all my drama princess routine over not wanting to go, and how patient he was with all that, I figured the least I could do was to go home and let him enjoyed what was left of Pride without having to baby sit me. So I left him to his wicked ways. But he followed me. "Hey, stud! Want to dance?"

Up until the other night in Brian's office, I had never heard anything more wonderful in my life. When he smiled at me and promised that I wouldn't forget this one, he made me want to melt into his arms and stay there forever. He was right, too. I won't ever forget it. Well, I guess I did for a while, or I wouldn't have fallen for Ethan's bullshit. But I won't forget again in a hurry.

Of course there was also the night we danced at Babylon and set all those stupid rules. In one way, that should have all been pretty wonderful, should have shown me that Brian really wanted to be with me. But somehow it all got muddled up in my head and instead somewhere inside I still felt like maybe he didn't, maybe it just seemed like he should do something to make me stay 'cause I needed to be there. That's when we really started to go wrong I think. I don't know. I don't really want to think about that any more. Especially right now.

Right now, the music is thumping loudly out there somewhere; somewhere outside the little bubble of light that contains Brian and I and nothing and no one else. The beat seems to be some sort of Latin dance mix, but we're here, in our own little bubble, and we're swaying to our own rhythms and soon they will build to a crescendo and we'll head for the back room. But for now, as our bodies move together with such easy familiarity and our hands stray everywhere, reclaiming what once was lost, this is enough.

_"In this world there's nothing I would rather do, _  
><em>'cause I'm happy just to dance with you."<em>

Brian

_"I'm so happy when you dance with me."_

The words of that stupid song go through my head even as Justin is moving closer in my arms and tangling his fingers in my hair. It's my own fault, of course. I keep playing the fucking cd. I don't know why. Well, in some ways I do. It's so dumb, but it feels like it's lucky for me or something. I don't know. After how it made me feel before, you'd think I'd never want to hear it again.

But now that he's back, now that I'm safely in his arms again … Now that he's safely in my arms again, I mean. Only I don't. I mean now that I'm safe in his arms again because that's how it feels. Like I'm safe when he holds me, like being with him is shield and armour and ten foot thick walls around us that nobody can break down to hurt me ever again. I should be scared shitless to feel like that. But, funnily enough, I'm not. I just feel …safe.

Anyway, now that he's back … when I hear the songs now, they don't hurt anymore. In some way they make me feel relieved. It's as if I'd been really sick or hurt in some way and had to go through this terribly painful treatment, but now that it's over, maybe I can heal. God, it must be the dope in the air in here getting to me. I haven't had that much to drink.

Whatever the reason, I'm still playing the cd. I have to bullshit to Justin about using one of the songs for an ad, but I think they're starting to get to him too. He's beginning to sing along if I have the cd on in the car.

_"I just want to dance with you all night."_

And now, as I'm back here dancing with Justin, with my beautiful Sunshine, mine; now that song is going through my head and as I look down into those eyes I could happily drown in, I can't help but remember the first time we danced together. That was at Babylon too. I guess he played me that night too. I should have known then that I'd more than met my match. I can't believe it took me so long to figure it out. Or at least, to admit it.

I'd told him: 'I've had you. I don't do repeats.' But he made me eat my words; for the first time, but I'm sure we're a long way yet from seeing the last. Unless I wake up to myself at least, and stop trying to bullshit my way through things with him, because he'll call me on it every time. That's one of the things I … appreciate … about him. Alright, it's one of the things I love about him. I just need to be careful even thinking that word around him. I'm not sure that I'm ready to say it yet, if ever. And sometimes I think he can pick things straight out of my brain.

He came towards me that night, all glowing and golden with glitter in his hair, and shining on his pale skin, and, let's face it, he was a walking fucking wet dream. I'm not surprised those two guys went after him. I'd be surprised if half the losers there didn't come in their pants just at the sight of him.

But there was no way anyone but me was going to have him that night. I just stalked in and staked my claim and then there was only Justin and I. I remember lifting him over my head and just laughing up at him in sheer delight at his beauty and his courage and because he wanted me. It was the first time in a long long time that I'd felt flattered that someone wanted to be with me. With everyone else it was pretty much a matter of course. But not with him. Never, really, with him. I know everyone, including Justin, thought I took him for granted but I never did. That wasn't the problem. It was just the opposite really - I took for granted that one day he'd stop wanting me, and I couldn't just go along with the love thing and wait for that to happen. I had to pretend that it didn't matter, that he didn't matter. So that when that day came, I could escape with my pride, at least, intact.

Yeah, pathetic. I know that now. But then, it actually seemed to make sense. Of course, part of the deal was that no one could ever know that that's what was going on in my head. I'm all too good at putting up a front, and even Justin never seemed to see through that one. Oh, they all knew that he mattered to me, they saw through that part. But they still all thought I took his admiration, his love, for granted. And I never did. Not for a moment. I just didn't believe it would last, is all. So instead of making the most of every moment of it, I spent all my time trying to pretend that I never wanted it anyway, as if that could make it hurt less when I lost it. So stupid. One of the many mistakes I'll try not to make again.

I hunker down the way I like to do when we're dancing so that our eyes are on the same level. He's got the same slightly giddy look on his face that I'm sure is on mine and, you know what, I don't give a stuff. He's here, and his hands are stroking down my arms and then over my hips and mine are roaming over any bare bit of skin I can find on his body. Soon, soon, I'll want more than this; soon, we'll both need more than this; but for now, this is wonderful, this is like a long cool drink on a hot hot day when you feel that you've been about to die from thirst.

_"Before this dance is through, _  
><em>I think I'll love you too, <em>  
><em>I'm so happy when you dance with me."<em>

Even now, I don't know why I went to his Prom. It was a question I asked myself over and over, and God knows, everyone else asked it too. But I don't really know.

All that I do know is that once I was there, once I saw him looking so beautiful, so handsome, in that damned tux, once I started to dance with him, what I did know was that I was falling in love with him. By the time the dance was through, I'd fallen. Damn! that does sound like that fucking song. But it's true. It had probably been happening for months. But for me, it happened that night. That's when I knew it. And I was happier than I'd ever been, and hardly scared at all. Which is truly ironic, when you think of how it ended.

Over the last months, while Justin was gone, I had time to work out a lot of what went wrong in those months after the bashing, after he moved in with me.

I've done some reading, and realised that he was going through a lot of stuff, not just with this hand, which I could help with, but inside, in his head and emotionally, which I couldn't help with much at all. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder they call it. It's pretty common after that sort of "incident". He needed help. And he didn't get it. Of course, the other part of our problem was that so did I.

I'd never want to admit that of course, and I still can't see how going to some bullshit therapist is going to help. Me, that is. Not Justin. If Justin wanted to do that I'd be with him all the way. But for me, just understanding what the deal was has helped a lot. The more I read about it, the more things began to make sense to me.

I guess one thing was that it sort of turned me off romance. My first effort didn't exactly end well. But it also brought back all those fears about losing Justin, about Justin leaving me. Funnily enough, it's hard to watch someone you love half-killed in front of you without starting to have thoughts about losing them. Not to mention the time, the uncountable aeons, that he was in the coma.

So, aside from staying away from him in the hospital, because there was nothing I could do for him and the terror that I felt every time I looked at him, every time any one looked at him, nearly choked me; aside from all that, when I did get him back, when he moved back in with me, that's when things got really weird for me.

See, he needed me. He really did. I was the only one who could make him feel safe, the one who could make him work on his hand, work to get his art back. Hell, I was the only one who could get him to walk down the fucking street. So I did. I worked on it all with him. And every day he got better. And every day he got closer to not needing me any more, closer to being able to do without me, closer to leaving me.

All the tricks and the date nights and the baths and the three ways? They were my pathetic attempts to stave off the inevitable. What does every gay boy want? Lots of sex, right? With lots of hot young men? So my brilliant plan, although I didn't really understand at the time that this was true, was to make sure that Sunshine got all the hot sex he could handle, with as many guys as he wanted, and tried to make sure that as often as possible I was involved as well. That way, he'd never have to leave me to get what every gay boy wants. Brilliant, Kinney. Full marks. Right.

There were so many ways that little fantasy could have come crashing down it's not even worth while thinking about it. The one that basically brought it completely undone was the most obvious. Justin wasn't just any other gay boy.

You'd think I'd have figured that one out. It's the fucking reason I fell for him in the first place. So what most gay boys might have wanted was pretty irrelevant where Justin was concerned. It sure as hell wasn't what he wanted.

Mind you, even if I'd figured that out a lot earlier than I did, I think we'd still have crashed and burned. Like I said, we both had a lot of baggage with us. I've cleared out some of mine, I hope. Maybe he has too.

It feels really different this time. This time he isn't a bright little twinkie, or a battered waif. This time he's a man, pure and simple. My man. For what that's worth.

And we're back here at Babylon, dancing together. I'll bet this is giving every queer in the place a hard on and something to gossip about for days. Stuff 'em.

His tongue is moving over his lips, and it's getting very close to the time that I'll grab his hand and drag him into the back room and ravish him. Like he'll be resisting.

But for now, I just want to spend a while longer dancing with him like this, with the glitter falling around us, and the lights bright on his pale hair and skin, and our bodies swaying together in a dance that we seemed destined to share forever.

_"In this world there's nothing I would rather do. _  
><em>I've discovered I'm in love with you, <em>  
><em>'cause I'm happy just to dance with you."<em>

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_Lyrics quoted are from Just to Dance With You by Lennon/McCartney_


End file.
